In Dulci Jubilo
by Lyrin
Summary: The staff watches as one of their own goes into freefall -- yeah, it's another Noel story


Disclaimer: Last time I checked, they belonged to someone else . . . unless pigs are flying and Mr Sorkin just randomly decided to give them to anyone who wanted them. 

  
  


Spoilers: Noel, and I will say that I've managed to depart from canon here, so WW purists beware!!!

  
  


Feedback: This is my first fanfic (awww!), so please be kind.

  
  


Author's notes: So, yeah, after seeing Noel for the third time, a little plot-bunny made a nest in my head . . .it wouldn't go away, and started whispering things to me, so I wrote them down. Hopefully, it'll keep talking. Anyway: to Paris, who got me started on WW and the fanfic writing therein; and to the Faery, who told me to let other people read my ramblings.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


On This Day, Earth Shall Ring  
  


I glanced up from the memo someone had forced upon me, almost glad for Margaret's intrusion.  


"What's up?"  


"Toby's outside. He wants to know if you've got a minute?"  


"If it's about the Kendry thing, tell him no -- it'll hold until after the break." I turned back to my memo, not bothering to watch her leave. It would be very like Toby to show up wondering about a rookie reporter's bad handling of whatever it was Kendry'd handled. I put Toby and his troubles out of my mind -- I had work to do.  


My door opened again.  


"It's not about the thing, Leo."   


I peered at Toby over the rims of my glasses. Margaret had trailed in after him, and now looked rather apologetic.  


"He wouldn't stay outside."   


"So I see, thank you, Margaret." I tore my gaze from the Communications Director -- he seemed off, somehow -- to favor my highly capable secretary with a smile. She turned to go, and I watched Toby as he watched her close the door behind her. He looked down at his feet, shifting uncomfortably and scratching his brow as he does when he's upset over something.  


"What happened?" I suppressed a sigh -- only a few days before the Christmas lid went on -- we didn't need anything else to go wrong.  


Toby cleared his throat. "It's Josh."  


"What did he do?" Couldn't have been too bad -- Toby wasn't flying off the handle.  


"He's acting, well, strangely."  


"Toby, Josh is always strange."   


"Leo."  


His tone made me regret even thinking that last remark. "What's going on?"  


"He thought the bagpipes in the lobby were sirens."  


"No offense, Toby, but they are rather loud."  


"Yeah, but he wasn't being sarcastic." His voice took on the edge that meant he was annoyed, with a capital A.  


I met his eyes. His gaze, unblinking, confirmed the hard truth in Toby's words. "OK -- keep an eye on him."  


"Um, isn't there --?"  


"Toby, this might not turn into a thing. Let it go for now." There's something to be said for prudence, and as I told Toby, albeit indirectly, sometimes it was hard to tell what Josh would turn into a thing.  


"Okay." Toby had a God-given gift of filling two syllables with enough resignation tempered with 'I-think-you're-wrong-but-you're-my-boss' to fill entire chapters.  


He turned to leave.  


"Toby."  


"Yeah," he answered, turning back.  


"Thanks for telling me."  


He just looked at me with the same resigned tone as was in his voice, then he was gone.  
  


As the day wore on, my impromptu meeting played over and over in my mind. I vowed to keep a closer eye on my deputy: if I let anything happen to the kid, I knew his father would find some way to come back from the dead just so he could kill me. As I thought about it, Noah's son had been a little more distant lately -- not quite himself. I though it might have something to do with that pilot-- he had affected us all. Maybe the stress had found a chink in that armour of Josh's. Who knows. Good thing it was almost Christmas -- we could all use a break.  
  


Turns out I would regret not taking action sooner. I will admit to being pretty livid at Josh there at first -- you do not raise your voice to the leader of the free world -- but  
there was something in the way that Josh told the President to listen to him that set off warning bells in my mind. I didn't know quite how Jed had taken Josh's outburst, between my being shocked and livid, and Jed's face becoming the unreadable mask he wears so well. The meeting had gone on, as meetings do, but this one was strained, and without Josh. Somewhere during the course of Josh's cry for help, Sam's face had gone pale. He was pretty much silent for the rest of the meeting and shot out of the Oval Office as soon as he could. I hoped ATVA could help Josh -- mentioning it to him had been playing a hunch.   


"Leo!"  


Somewhere, some part of me groaned: it was late. What could possibly be next? But, this was the President yelling now, and, more importantly, it was Jed.  


I stepped into the Oval. "Yes, Mr. President?"  


"The Staff Meeting today...."   


"Which one, sir?"  


He ignored my wise-ass behavior. We both knew for damn sure which one he meant. 

"Leo, I've been going over the day's event in my mind here, and one thing in particular sticks out. You have any idea why my Deputy Chief of Staff yelled at me today?"  


"I'm not sure, sir," the President hated hunches, "The whole staff is a little more on edge than usual -- I think the pilot's suicide is getting to us all. I'm gonna call the American Trauma Victims Association...play a hunch."  


"Cano. Yeah. He'll talk to a guy?"  


I nodded.  


"Okay. Tell Josh it's okay -- don't tell him I told you it was okay, but do reassure him of my forgiving, good-natured spirit, eh?"   


I managed a small smile. "Yes, sir."  
  


A day passed with no more weird behavior from Josh, at least none that I got wind of. He seemed fine, right up until the day after the Congressional Christmas Party, when there came a soft knock on my door.  


"Yeah?" I called. My desk was covered with things I didn't see myself needing to care about for the next little while.  


Donna made her way in, her face tight with worry.  


"Donna? What's wrong?"  


"It's Josh."  


I sat up a little straighter. "What's wrong now?"  


I began to feel guilty -- I admit I hadn't been keeping as close an eye on him as I could have been -- nor had I called ATVA in a timely manner. I could almost see Toby making his 'I told you so' face at me.  


"Now?" her voice rose about half an octave.  


"Toby said there might be a thing."  


She nodded. "I think he's right."  


"What happened?"  


"I don't know if you've noticed, but he's been rather out of it lately, and today he came in with his right wrist bandaged."  


I cursed inwardly. I hadn't noticed.  


". . .I mean, he is a klutz, but if it was an accident, why didn't he see a doctor -- it looked like he bandaged it himself. And...."  


"Donna." Bright girl, tended to ramble on.  


She closed her mouth and stared at her hands. I watched her. After a long pause, she spoke again. "Can we do anything?" Her voice was small, scared.  


My heart went out to the young woman. The night at GW after Roslyn had nearly crushed her -- she had spent the night in the waiting room, refusing to leave until he came out of surgery. I could only imagine what seeing Josh behave so strangely was doing to her.  


"Yeah -- we can do something." Thinking about Roslyn made something click in my mind -- and the hunch was no longer a hunch. After all, how many guys did I know who started going nuts months, even years after 'Nam? Including me. I shied away from the memories (or lack thereof) of nights I spent drinking to forget. Look how that turned out. 

  
  


"There's an organization called the American Trauma Victims Association."  


"You think this is all connected to . . ." she waved her hand vaguely, "it?"  


"Yeah."  


She nodded, her eyes bright with the promise of tears.  


"He's a tough guy, Donna. He's gonna get through this."  


She gave me a watery smile, then broke the moment, getting up so she could compose herself, then go back to whatever work Josh had piled up for her.  


I rubbed the bridge of my nose absently, thinking of where I could get ATVA's number. Except I had someone to do these things for me -- thank God for that.  


"Margaret!" She poked her head in.  


"Yes?"  


"I need you to find a phone number for me -- the American Trauma Victims Association."  


Her eyes went wide. "Is this about Josh? I mean, Donna was just here, and she didn't look too well on the way out, and when Donna looks like that, it's usually about Josh -- or at least I thought it would be about Josh -- who else would she talk to you about?"  


"Margaret."  


"And I should stop talking and get that number, right?"  


The raised eyebrow gets her every time.  


"Right." With that, she was gone.  


Left alone with the situation at hand, I cursed inwardly. Noah really was going to kill me.  
  
~~~

  
  


I watched Josh and Donna leave, Donna taking his arm protectively. A fear of rectangles. Christ. Where the hell did he come up with that? I stood in the lobby a few moments more, debating the next move, then went in search of the President.  


"Mr. President, do you have a minute?" I poked my head into his office.  


"I've dismissed my staff to attend to the holiday celebrations, I have time to myself -- which, by the way, includes some long-awaited quality time with my wife -- and I don't have to be the President for a little while, and you ask if I have a minute?"  


"Well, sir, I know you have a busy schedule to keep to --"  


"Shut up and get in here, Leo."  


"Yes, sir."   


"What's up?"  


"I've got an answer for you concerning Josh."  


The relaxed grin faded from his face, giving way to concern. "Yeah."  


"As you may or may not be aware, he spent the day today with a specialist from ATVA. He's got Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."  


A shadow flickered across Jed's face. "From Roslyn."  


"Yeah."  


I knew the look he gave me well -- it was the same look he had with any bad news. He couldn't keep the anger out of his eyes -- I could guess at whom it was directed. The spark of anger cooled into compassion for the young man I knew he thought of as a son. Then, finally, I could read the unspoken prayer in his eyes.  


"Okay," he said, nodding. "You okay, Leo?"  


I nodded, trusting he could read what I couldn't say.  


"Okay."  
  



End file.
